


Snow

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hallucifer, M/M, Post Season 7, Self-Mutilation, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam would do anything to see Dean again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Version #1
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

Death found Sam on his knees in the middle of the congested tundra known as Flagstaff, trees jutting out of the ground and looming in a towering manner. It was a manner of courtesy and insurance that Death would personally come to take any of the Winchesters to their destinations now. The aged Horseman did not trust a Reaper to take the infamous Winchesters that continued to escape their ends. Dean was currently in his respective spot in Purgatory and Sam was now teetering on the edge, heartbeat rapid and booming in his ears. 

The well-dressed Horseman looked down at the Winchester who was deep in the snow, leaning down and in a jacket. Clothes were gone save for the jacket, and who knows how long Sam sat in the cold, shivering violently as hypothermia gripped him. The tall Winchester was hunched over, clutching something to his chest and muttering something under his breath, pausing to take wheezed intakes of air. 

“Sam Winchester.” 

Sam looked up, eyes red and lips cracked. A determined look was etched on Sam’s face, something that made Death’s mouth quirk into a becoming frown. Sam coughed, clearing his throat and tilting his head to the right. Hair was greased and looked unwashed. Cheeks were smeared with dirt and neck had a streak of cracked blood running down, as if he sloppily drank something and it ran down his chin and neck in his greed. Something was wrong with Sam’s focus, unable to keep his gaze on Death, instead consistently looking elsewhere with a delirious zeal. 

A cheeky little laugh left Sam, sounding rough and harsh as he rolled his head back down. Hypothermia must have made Sam lose his grasp with sanity, or perhaps it was with Dean’s death. It was not in Death’s interest to care or understand. He gave no sympathy and mercy. The Winchesters were lucky that his dear friend had a keen interest on the family. God, however, has been growing silent even with him. Heaven was empty and unwatched as Hell boomed with new inhabitants, beginning to flood over. The laboratories left by the Leviathans were destroyed but the contamination was still high, leaving a good amount placid and fat while the other reacted poorly. They seethed and foamed from the mouth, in a brilliant shade of incoherent rage. It was not necessarily the Croatoan virus, but it acted nearly the same. The world was ticking and the end was nigh.

Today Sam was pulling him towards him by what looked like a painful suicide attempt. Freezing to death. A sad way to go. 

“I’m so glad you came. Sam’s been getting cold,” Sam smiled, still clutching to something on his chest. Teeth were coated in blood and Death’s nostrils delicately flared. Demon blood. Eyes flicked to the right and spotted a familiar face. 

“Lucifer.” 

Sam nodded and smiled with a ‘you caught me’ expression flying on his face in glee. The image of Lucifer’s past vessel did the same, as if Sam was destined to copy whatever the hallucination in his skull did. Death pursed his lips and nothing more. The Cage was still locked and there were still three inhabitants in that very Cage. If Lucifer was free and about, Death would have been aware. The Winchester was far beyond broken, Castiel no longer able to keep the hallucinations far from Sam since his passing and the solitude that came with the loss of one’s family left Sam an ugly form of stir crazy. Going back to the diet of demon blood was doing no favors to Sam’s mental being. Or maybe Lucifer was pushing against the archaic bond that was finally realized when Sam submitted to the Devil? Whatever it may be he could see into Sam’s skull, could see how vivid this image of Lucifer was in his cranium and how dim Sam himself was to it. How the boy king has crumbled. 

It was high time he put Sam out of his misery. 

Moving towards the hunched figure who continued to huddle into himself, a bony hand laid itself onto Sam’s greasy head. The old entity wrapped his will around Sam’s frail and strained thread of life and...it would not give. 

“You can’t collect your master, Death.” 

Sam leaned away from Death’s touch, sitting up straight to see the old symbols and runes carved into his skin with keen precision. The cold has made each cut scab over and frost, the skin turning a rather ugly shade of purple and black. So the Winchester summoned him through suicide and trapped him through self-mutilation. A rather morbid show and Death isn’t sure whether to be a bit impressed or unamused. “Tell me, Sam, what do you plan to accomplish by doing this?” 

The Winchester pushes himself to his feet, limbs shaking and looking gaunt, the process a slow one. “I promised him that if he helps me, I’ll help him. I get freedom and you will pull that older brother of his back from the grave,” he replies back confidently and Death notes the difference between Sam and his hallucination of Lucifer. Lucifer looked healthy and vibrant while Sam looked like he’s been sucked dry, desperately clinging onto life with that passed down stubbornness his family carries. Desperation was keeping Sam alive. 

Sam opens his palm, fingers open to show a palm of callouses and blisters, three rings sitting neatly in the middle.  
 “Your ring, Death.” 

Death stares back at him, clasping his hands before him, lips a thin line. Sam stares back, body swaying slightly with the wind, hand still out expectantly. By force does the entity feel his hand move and slip his own ring off. With a cold sniff at Sam as if he has reached the lowest level of scum, he places the ring into his palm. 

“You are an idiot, Samuel Winchester,” he finally breathes out, breaking the silence. “If you think that this will not haunt you, you are wrong. Whatever you aim to achieve is foolish.” 

A moment of clarity falls in Sam’s eyes, but not from the threat that he knows will be fulfilled. Not now, though. That threat will have to be realized later. Fingers curl around the four rings in his grasp, giving a weak smile, bottom lip bleeding as dry skin cracks at the movement. He is rather unfazed as he looks up at the Horseman, taking a shaky step back before dropping the connected rings onto the floor. 

“I get to see Dean again. That’s all I need. That’s all I ever needed.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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